


Irregular

by bluebell



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Masturbation, Omega John, Omega Verse, Phone Sex, dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebell/pseuds/bluebell
Summary: John found himself leaning against the worktop, just listening to that low voice wash over him.





	

The first phone call came a day after Sherlock had left for Cardiff. John watched as the kettle boiled, plonking a tea bag into his favourite mug and hardly listening as Sherlock demanded that John send him some file or other. Sherlock's voice was comfortingly familiar after a full day at the surgery talking to strangers and John found himself leaning against the worktop, just listening to that low voice wash over him. It was only when John noticed that he'd added fuck only knew how many sugars to his tea, hadn't taken in anything that Sherlock had asked him to do, and that he was half hard - that John realised that not everything was as normal. He wrote down the name of the file Sherlock wanted and hung up as soon as he could, without even asking how Sherlock's case was going. 

Not that Sherlock would notice that anything was amiss of course. Not while he had a case on.

John took his tea into the sitting room and determinedly ignored his cock - now erect and pressing hopefully up against the material of his trousers. He adjusted himself in his pants and bit his lip at the touch. He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't.

~ ~ ~

John awoke the next morning with a start. Reality had invaded his dream of being fucked hard and knotted whilst leaning over the kitchen table and he groaned with frustration. He took himself in hand, his cock already leaking pre-come. He raised his hips up off the bed, reaching back to his dripping hole with the other hand and inserting two fingers up to the second knuckle, without stopping to draw breath. He was loose and slick and his fingers weren't enough, weren't nearly enough. 

He was coming hard, his body taut and come spattered up his belly and as far as neck before he realised. Fuck. He was in heat.

John called in sick - Sarah was painfully kind and understanding - and went down to make himself a cup of tea. His legs felt shaky and he was warm, going downstairs wrapped in only a sheet. It wasn't as if he had to worry about Sherlock seeing him after all. His cycles hadn't been regular since he came off suppressants after coming out the army and it had been about six months since he was last in heat. He hadn't been expecting this at all.

Perhaps this explained his reaction to Sherlock's voice on the phone last night, John thought. He sat down on a kitchen chair as he waited for the kettle to boil, trying not to squirm and shift in his seat as his natural lubricant trickled between his cheeks and made a large wet patch on the sheet he was wrapped in.

~ ~ ~

John had made it as far as the sofa, having first grabbed a towel from the bathroom to sit on. He had absolutely no desire to be scrubbing his own natural sodding lubricant out of the upholstery. His skin felt two sizes too small for his body and prickled with sweat and John threw back the sheet he had been wrapped in and lay down on the sofa. This was progressing faster than he had expected. He was already thrusting up into his fist, pumping his cock in the vain hope that that would give him some relief. He thought for a moment of the two dildos he had upstairs and turned his head into the sofa cushions in frustration. That was so far away. John fucked himself with three fingers and took a deep breath, smelling the sweet spicy scent of an alpha as he did so. Fuck, he could smell Sherlock on this sofa, that's what it was. He was smelling Sherlock all over this flat and his fucked up Omega biology was working overtime as it prepared him for the big strong alpha that was going to come knot him and fill him with come.

John grunted and came, his face buried in the sofa, getting as close to the scent of Sherlock as he could.

~ ~ ~

Sherlock's bed was unbelievably comfy, the mattress that perfect state between being neither too firm nor too yielding. The cotton sheets were soft as silk and the pillows and duvet was down filled. It was shame really, that John wasn't appreciating any of that, and was currently frotting against a pillow that he held between his thighs and the mattress whilst awkwardly fucking himself with the dildo he'd found in the top drawer of Sherlock's bedside table.

In some dim corner of his mind he was aware that he'd be mortified with embarrassment about this later, but right now he really didn't care.

~ ~ ~

John had staggered into the kitchen for a glass of milk and some of those disgusting energy bars that Sherlock ate when he heard his phone ringing. It was vibrating loudly on the draining board where he'd left it and was on the verge of falling into the sink. He answered without thinking about it as he walked back to Sherlock's room.

"'Hello." John put it on speaker phone and sat it on Sherlock's bedside table as he unwrapped an energy bar.

"John? Are you there? Why haven't you been answering your phone? The receptionist at the surgery wouldn't tell me if you were ill or put me through to Sarah. JOHN!"

Sherlock's voice sounded a little tinny and far away but it was still him and John swallowed his mouthful of what tasted like sweetened cardboard, his chin dropping to his chest as Sherlock's voice washed over him.

"Sherlock-" John's throat felt raw and he swallowed against the lump that was suddenly there. He wasn't some pathetic Omega who needed looking after. He wasn't.

"John. What's wrong? John!"

"I'm in heat, alright!" John snapped. "I can smell you everywhere in this fucking flat and I'm leaking like a fucking tap all over your fucking mattress and-"

"Shut up, John."

John hid his face in his hands whilst at the same time fighting the urge to grab his cock and that dildo and ask Sherlock to keep talking, just keep talking. In fact he doubted he'd even need to touch his cock, he could probably come just from the sound of Sherlock's deep voice and the knowledge that he had Sherlock's own dildo thrusting wetly in and out of him. But John resisted. Things were bad enough as it was. What with John just having admitted he was in Sherlock's room. Sherlock was a detective, he was hardly likely to have missed the "your mattress" part of his outburst.

"I can go back on suppressants," John babbled, the silence between them finally too much for him to stand.

He heard a long suffering sigh from Sherlock and fuck, even that caused John's cock to twitch and John couldn't help himself, he lay back on the bed, the dildo in one hand and his cock in the other.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I can go back on suppressants and this will never happen again I swear," John repeated, hating himself yet unable to stop.

"Shut up, you idiot," Sherlock snapped. "I said - if you had been listening - that I can be there for your next heat if you like."

Even through the fog of heat John could hear the tension in Sherlock's voice. 

John took a deep breath and felt a fresh slickness between his cheeks at the thought, at just the thought, of Sherlock fucking him through his next heat. 

"Fuck. Sherlock." 

"John", said Sherlock, his voice sounding strangled. 

"Next time's too late," John whined, all self control leaving him at last. "I need you here now. I need your knot, Sherlock."

"Yes."

"You'll knot me and fuck me in your bed," John said, thrusting his hips back onto the dildo. It was hard and unyielding and it wasn't what John wanted, but it's what he had. That and Sherlock's voice on the other end of the phone.

"You'll hold me down and plug me full of your come. Fuck me till I can't move," panted John.

"I'm on the train," Sherlock said, just a hint of a shake to his voice.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise. I just wish- what are you doing right now?"

"I'm fucking myself on your dildo and wishing it had a knot because it's not enough, Sherlock. It's not enough and I hurt, I need- I need-"

"I'm here John. I'm with you. Right next to you."

"Touching me."

"Yes."

"Touch me. Oh fuck, Sherlock. Sherlock!"

Some time later John became aware that Sherlock was still talking to him. 

"Mmm? Yeah?" John mumbled, turning onto one side to face the phone.

"I'll be there soon."

"You're in Cardiff," John said stupidly. 

"Don't you listen to a word I say? I'm on the train. I'll be there in an hour."

"You're on the train?"

"You weren't answering your phone," Sherlock sighed, with the tone of voice that said John was being unutterably stupid.

"You were worried about me." 

"Shut up."

"You say the sweetest things."

"I'll be there soon."

"Well get a fucking move on," John said, smiling as he relaxed on Sherlock's bed. Having just come the heat had receded a little, but the need was still there, simmering beneath the surface.


End file.
